


Root of Evil

by goldarrow



Series: Silent!Stephen [10]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldarrow/pseuds/goldarrow
Summary: Banking can be more dangerous than originally thought.





	Root of Evil

**Author's Note:**

> Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures.

Root of Evil

 

 _Thank you,_ Stephen signed. How he'd managed to find the one bank branch in the area with a clerk who understood signing, he didn't know. He was just happy at his luck. Having been created by Helen Cutter as a mute clone of the original, deceased Stephen Hart, his usual interactions with others outside the ARC consisted of a considerable amount of shrugging, pointing and hand waving. In contrast, it was a genuine pleasure to do business here.

 

The clerk, Charlotte, grinned. "You're welcome," she replied cheerfully, before her gaze slid past him and her eyes widened.

 

Hearing a thump, Stephen spun around and gasped, unconsciously backing up to put Charlotte directly behind him in the hopes she could hit her silent alarm without being seen. A quick glance toward the front door showed him the guard lying unconscious, his key hanging from the front door lock.

 

"Done," she whispered, and he let out the breath he'd been holding.

 

"Hands up, both of you! Away from the counter!" The two men in front of them brandished their pistols in a lavish manner that made Stephen very nervous. His own memories of his original's competitive shooting along with the knowledge gained from his Special Forces lover let him know without a doubt that they were completely incompetent. And lack of competence added to guns equalled a total that meant someone was liable to get very hurt, very soon.

 

Nodding agreeably, Stephen raised his hands and stepped away from the counter, seeing Charlotte doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

 

"This is a small branch," Charlotte said quietly, “We don’t have much cash available.”

 

“Shut up!” one of them shouted, while the other one demanded, “Call the manager out, now!”

 

There were times when Stephen dearly wished he could speak, and this was high on the list of those times. He would very much like to ask them how the clerk was supposed to both call the manager and shut up at the same time, a question which would also have the happy effect of getting their attention off her and onto him, as she was starting to look a little wobbly.

 

“You! What are you looking at, you tosser?”

 

Stephen gathered his wandering wits, realising he’d been staring at the men without quite seeing them. He automatically dropped his hands to sign.

 

“Hands up, fucker! Are you trying to get yourself shot?” The smaller of the two men, whom Stephen decided to mentally refer to as Robber Number One, seemed to have the bigger mouth.

 

Stephen immediately raised his hands, shaking his head.

 

“He can’t speak,” Charlotte said quietly. “He’s mute. He was going to sign to you. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

“Fucking hell, a dummy,” the small man marvelled.

 

A glare was the only external sign Stephen gave in reaction, covering up his internal wince with the ease of long practice. His ability to hide his true emotions had been honed and tested by his experiences with Helen and for the first time, he was perversely grateful for them.

 

“The manager, now.” The larger man, henceforth known as Robber Number Two in Stephen’s mind, dropped the bag he was holding, then raised his weapon and pointed it threateningly at Stephen.

 

“I’ll have to use the phone here. He’s in the back,” Charlotte told them, but didn’t move until the man nodded at her.

 

“Do it. But don’t tell him why.”

 

Thirty seconds later, the manager bustled through the door beside the counter. “Charlotte, surely you’ve the experience to handle customer complaints without - what in the name of all that’s holy?” He stopped, automatically raising his hands as he stared at the gun pointed directly between his eyes by Robber Number Two.

 

Stephen wanted to simultaneously laugh and snarl. He’d never particularly liked Mr Best, who tried to personify his name in too many ways, but he wouldn’t wish having to peer down the barrel of a gun on anyone.

 

“The safe deposit box room. Unlock it, now!”

 

The manager stuttered. “But - but I can’t! It’s not possible!”

 

“Not possible?” Number Two snorted, pushing the barrel into Best’s forehead. “You mean you’re not supposed to. But I’ll tell you this, and I’ll say it only once. We are going to get into those boxes. You can open the room and get in trouble, or you can refuse, and we’ll take the keys from your dead body. Your choice.”

 

Best stared wildly around, his frantic gaze finally landing on Stephen. His eyes widened even more for a second, then he seemed to gather courage from somewhere deep inside and took a deep breath. “Very well. Allow me to lower my arms.”

 

For the first time since they’d met, Stephen actually felt respect for the bank manager. Allowing the men to break into and rifle the safe deposit boxes, no matter the provocation, would most likely put paid to Best’s career. Deep down, Stephen hadn’t been sure the manager was actually capable of putting a customer’s well-being ahead of his own livelihood. It seemed he’d underestimated him.

 

“Go ahead.” Number Two’s finger tightened a fraction on the trigger, and Stephen took a sharp breath.

 

Reaching slowly into his pocket and removing a ring of keys. Best gave Stephen a quick look that he couldn’t interpret.

 

Stephen stood waiting, Number One’s gun still pointed toward him as the manager and Number Two headed for the safe deposit room, its door visible at the end of the short side corridor off the lobby.

 

They hadn’t been in the room for more than a minute when a flickering light cast shadows on the corridor walls and frantic screams echoed, followed by a cacophony of chittering, chirping snarls that Stephen knew all too well. The moment the man holding the gun on him turned away to peer down the corridor, Stephen dived over the counter, taking Charlotte down, out of sight.

 

He heard the squeak of the robber’s shoes as he spun back with a loud curse, and held his hand over Charlotte’s mouth to keep her silent. When she nodded, he removed his hand but kept his arm around her, pressing her to the floor.

 

Her eyes widened and she buried her face in his shoulder when the next scream, this one starting out as terror and deteriorating into agony, sounded from actually inside the lobby, as the remaining robber emptied his gun into what Stephen knew had to be a raptor of some kind. Then the screams stopped, and the sounds of tearing flesh made the woman in his arms shudder. He held her close. All they could do was remain still, remain quiet, and hope that the creatures would be satisfied with the amount of food they already had.

 

A thump and a clicking sound above them told Stephen that his hope had been in vain. He raised his head and stared directly into the eye of a raptor. It was smaller than the ones they’d come across before, with even more developed feathers, but it didn’t look any less dangerous.

 

The creature crouched, forelimbs stretching out, and he braced himself for the attack, knowing there would be no escape from those tearing claws. Charlotte sobbed once, clutching him. He closed his eyes, hoping the end would be quick, only to open them in shock and joy when the front door burst open with a crash and the rattle of automatic fire sounded. Blood and feathers sprayed across their bodies. The ARC had arrived.

 

He gathered himself to stand, but a quick order in Ryan’s voice had him settling back down again.

 

“Stay still. We haven’t cleared the place, yet. Here, take this.”

 

A rifle appeared in front of him, and he tucked Charlotte behind him so he could grab it. A quick check and he was ready. They waited, Charlotte’s tears of relief soaking the shirt on the back of his shoulder.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, over and over, so quietly he could barely hear her.

 

Reaching behind, he patted her knee in comfort, and she sniffled a few times, then gave a watery chuckle before dropping silent, her forehead resting against his back.

 

“Clear!”

 

The word made every muscle in Stephen’s body go slack and he came close to passing out. Taking a few deep breaths to regain control, he stood shakily and reached down to help Charlotte to her feet.

 

She made a sick sound at the sight of the creatures’ bodies strewn across the room, and retched when she saw what was left of the robber. Stephen patted her shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

 

Ditzy appeared through the side door and took her off Stephen’s hands, to his relief. Grinning, the medic wrapped a blanket around her and escorted her out, talking quietly into her ear the entire way. Stephen’s last sight of her was her nodding as she climbed into a black car outside.

 

Then strong arms wrapped around him, and he buried his own face into Ryan’s chest for a moment.

 

“You okay?” his lover asked, holding him tightly.

 

He looked up and nodded, knowing Ryan would interpret it correctly: _I am now that you’re here._

 

“Love you, blue-eyes,” Ryan whispered into his ear, and Stephen kissed him hard, not caring who might be watching.

 

Ryan didn’t either, if his enthusiastic response was any indication.

 

 

 

End


End file.
